Are Clangers Edible?

Digby had a plan – he would wait. The thing would get hungry, or bored, or homesick, or just forget why it was hiding, and then it would come out. His plan had not included being shouted at.

He sat up, stunned. Then quickly went into the lounge and woke Hank, who was sleeping on the sofa.

“I think you’d better come and see this.” They padded, together into the dining room. “I found it outside. It’s just called to me, in Cat.”

Hank tilted his head to one side and studied the creature. “Did it say anything useful?”

“It said,  ‘Hey you,’ and then, ‘Take me to your leader.’ Do I have a leader?”

“Shouldn’t think so. What’s a leader?”

“Should I poke it?”

“No.” Hank pushed his nose towards the alien. “Let’s humour it. What are you and where are you from, little creature?”

Well, so far so good. There were two of the terrifying predators now, but she had not been eaten. The second alien was even bigger though less stocky and a darker orange. It did not look any less dangerous. YFnyrdh’s throat was dry and she was trembling slightly – imperceptibly, she hoped.

“I am YFnyrdh of the Kwmbry and I come from up there…”

The two cats looked up.

“Did it just say it fell off the ceiling?” asked Hank.

“It’s making it up.” replied Digby, “I brought it in from next door’s garden.”

“No…” YFnyrdh indicated towards a large transparent rectangle in one of the walls, “…out there. I come from the stars.”

“Now it says it fell through one of the shiny holes in the big black roof. Has it got concussion?”

Digby had dropped onto his elbows and was beginning to wiggle his bottom. Before he could pounce Hank stopped him. “Give it a bit longer, this is fun.”

“I am a space wrecked traveller, sole survivor from a doomed Galaxy Class ore carrier. I am unable to return to my home world without your assistance.” YFnyrdh assumed the posture of a supplicant. Then, indicating her surroundings with a wide sweeping gesture of her arms, she continued, “Your species has obviously achieved wondrous technological advances, are you capable of interstellar flight?”

“What is a technological?” asked Hank.

“What is advances?” asked Digby.

“You are too modest, this vast hall with its amazing artefacts, the many buildings beyond, only a great civilisation could construct such marvels or take all this for granted.”

“This…” explained Hank, “…is Home.   You don’t construct Home, it just is; it’s more to do with philosophy than physics.”

“And we are ginger moggies from the planet Hereandnow,” added Digby, “and we eat small creatures; even annoyingly deluded, gobby ones that think they are aliens.”

Not going quite so well now, then. Oh, Sqwrll! If this had been an episode of Star Quest she’d just shoot her way out of this mess and steal herself one of their space ships. Only they didn’t seem to have any space ships and Leading Spacepeople were hardly going to be let loose near guns. The crews on VLBCs were notoriously quirky. It was a long time between ports and you had to be a bit mad to be out there in the first place.

“We may have got off on the wrong foot here. Please, let me try to explain. I have inadvertently become trapped on your planet, which, pleasant as it may seem to you, is far from my home. I am considering the possibility that you are not the dominant species here and I wonder if you could put me in touch with…” The voice of the translator distorted. There was a pause, then it said, “Battery low!” in all known languages and went silent. YFnyrdh carried on for a while in Kwmbrysh, but it was pointless.

Sunburst Supernova

Digby had brought it in through the cat-flap and then lost it. More often than not the ones that got away were field mice, but this one was sort of silvery and a bit slippery. It may have gone under the dresser. Digby clawed about for a bit, rediscovered a long lost toy and then went into the kitchen for a snack.

It had not been a great trip from the start, but they ran into real trouble as they were approaching the outer moons of a large, pastel banded gas planet. YFnyrdh of the Kwmbry, as the first spawned offspring in her pod, had been expected to take up an apprenticeship under her biological parent, but instead had run away to space. She was diligent and intelligent and, just short of three standard years after signing on board the first rocket ship that would take her, she occupied the post of Leading Spaceperson on the Sunburst Supernova a Galaxy Class VLBC cargo transporter, the size of a small city and with a carrying capacity of just over a billion Short (Qrwm) tonnes. Not three temporal divisions ago they had seemed indomitable, space surfers, masters of the galaxy, but size really is not everything and nothing is too big to fail. YFnyrdh suddenly found herself in temporary command, more than a little stressed and yet highly motivated by the multiple alarms sounding around her. An intense solar storm had taken out anything on board with a processor in it and fried Kilometres of micro wiring. Quantum Uncertainty Computers can be finicky at the best of times, their awesome power deriving from the myriad multiple states possible compared to the on-or-off ones and zeros of binary computer systems. But, like tetchy teenagers, they would not work if they were being watched, and pulse after pulse of solar radiation had definitely given the impression of something that was watching, and probing, and fiddling about.

Whilst the small crew had been absorbed with restoring control and kick starting the supposedly fully automatic repair system the mega-vessel had ventured too far into the gravitational field of the gas giant. Swift action had avoided capture, but a sling shot effect had accelerated them towards the fiery yellow main sequence star at the centre of the planetary system. Then they had collided with the asteroid.

Sunburst Supernova’s spine snapped instantly and she began slowly to fold. There was a moment of silence and calm and then, with a succession of shudders and groans the great craft broke up spewing grit clouds of ore, vaporised fuel and some of the less fortunate crew out into space. The entire officer class was wiped out as the navigation deck was destroyed and much of the accommodation experienced explosive depressurisation. As girders fell about her and distant explosions rocked the hull YFnyrdh assisted her surviving companions into a life-craft and watched as it departed. Then she attended to her own survival. The incessant, cacophonous klaxon alarms and strobing red companionway lights kept her mindful of the impending danger, but were in no way helping her to think clearly or stay calm. She located what was probably the last undamaged life-craft, battled into one of its personal environment suits, rushed through the standard checks, blew the bolts and blasted away from the doomed carrier. Onboard-automated systems with some restored functionality turned both life-craft towards a distant blue planet.